


Gonna Make You Sweat

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Misha, Fluff, Hot sweaty sex, Implied Switching, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Schmoop, Texas, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Jensen, team switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Jensen invites Misha down to Austin for a long weekend in early August. It's hot. It's humid. Jensen doesn't care.





	Gonna Make You Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to the Cockles Co-Op ladies, who accidentally inspired this story when we started talking about how I (an American in the upper Midwest) thought all of Texas was a "dry heat" situation. They schooled me that this was incorrect. The image of hot, sweaty Cockles sex popped into my head and, voila. This PWP was born.
> 
> The setting is the first week of August in 2014, when the Ackles' were still fairly new to the home they live in now. 
> 
> As always - mind the tags, and enjoy!

Jensen’s invitation had been bold, simple, and easy to accept: _ I want you to come home with me this weekend so we can fuck.  _ Yes, absolutely Misha would do that, because he’d about had enough of quick-and-dirty blowjobs in their trailers or hotel rooms; of harsh kisses meant to swallow shouts of completion; of hiding and covering up, in general. He wanted Jensen around him, beneath him, inside him, loud and filthy and screaming his name.

Danneel, too, if they could manage it, because yeah. When the ladies joined them, there was always an extra element of fun that made Misha absolutely giddy in anticipation.

So he’d fired off a quick text to Vicki to confirm that she was OK with him going down to Texas to go down on Jensen, and she’d replied with a string of filthy requests for specific photos and videos of the encounter, so Misha took that as an enthusiastic yes and booked a flight that would have him arriving in Austin on the Saturday evening of a rare 3-day weekend. British Columbia Day. Yeah. The Canadians knew their shit, sticking an observed holiday in August.

He hadn’t been to visit since the Ackles clan had moved to their new place, so before he left Austin-Bergstrom International in search of Jensen’s vehicle waiting to pick him up, he bought a bottle of Jensen’s favorite Cabernet from an airport vendor and shoved it into his carry-on.

He whistled to himself as he wheeled the bag alongside him, sunglasses and hat firmly in place,  _ just in case _ anyone might think to look twice at him in recognition. It was Austin, after all. But the walk through the terminal was uneventful, and he found himself exiting to street level in no time at all.

The blast of humidity hit him two seconds after he stepped out of the revolving door.

Jesus Christ.

Someone honked a few cars from where he was standing, and he looked over to catch sight of Jensen’s jeep just as a familiar bare arm stuck out the window in a wave.

He hustled ahead. By the time he reached Jensen’s vehicle, he was already covered in a sheen of sweat.

A quick moment to stow his suitcase in the back end, and then he was jumping into the passenger seat beside a brightly smiling Jensen Ackles. “Hey.”

Misha pushed his sunglasses to the crown of his head and offered twinkling eyes in response. “Hey.”

There might have been a kiss then, if they weren’t parked outside AUS with the possibility of prying eyes everywhere.

Soon, though.

For the moment, they just took an extra-long beat to stare at each other. Jensen’s eyes were alight with mischief; Misha wondered if his eyes conveyed the same.

Then a car honked behind them, breaking the spell and jolting Jensen back to the reality of having to face forward and drive the two of them home. He cleared his throat. “How was the flight?”

“Fine. How the hell do you live here, man? It’s a fucking sauna.”

Jensen snorted a laugh. “If you want a  _ fucking  _ sauna, that can be arranged.” He took his eyes off the road and shot Misha a meaningful look as he reached a hand across the center console and rested it on Misha’s knee.

That hand stayed there, gently kneading the bare skin of Misha’s leg, until they were pulled into Jensen’s garage, and the door was shut behind them.

Then all bets were off.

Jensen leaned over the console to catch Misha’s lips in a kiss, full and soft and unhurried, as that hand on his knee crept further north, fingers kneading into the meat of his thigh as they went.

And then Jensen’s unoccupied hand turned the key to cut the engine, and--

Oh, gross.

_ Gross _ .

Misha pulled back from the kiss with a pop, brow creased in serious confusion. “How,” he panted, one open hand indicating the air around them in general, “How the fuck do you live here?”

“What? Just--” Jensen reached for him again, leaned in, clearly interested in returning to the kiss, but Misha shook his head and held his arms out.

“I’m already sweating!” He exclaimed. “I’m-- look, I have pit stains. Already!”

“You are such a baby,” Jensen returned with a shake of his head. “And you worry way too much about how you look, by the way. I’m always telling you that and--”

“Jensen.”

“Hmm?”

“When you invited me home for sex, I didn’t realize you meant to do it in your hot-as-balls car, parked in your garage, or I would have respectfully declined.” He delivered it in a deadpan tone, eyes fixed on Jensen’s face to convey that while he was exaggerating just a little, he did desperately want to get on with the part of the day that included more air conditioning and fewer clothes.

Jensen got the message.

They were out of the car in under a minute, and Jensen let them in through the garage side door, closing and locking the door behind them before pinning Misha up against it, bodies pressed flush, Jensen’s leg worked between Misha’s and their lips heatedly locked together.

Misha let Jensen take the lead, because sometimes, Jensen liked to do that and sometimes, Misha liked to let go of the control. But he did tilt his head and soften the kiss, letting the harshness of the initial action fade into a gentle slide of lips and tongues. The air around them was flowing and cool, and Misha breathed relief into the kiss as his hands sought purchase on Jensen’s hips, and then lower, and further back, and then he had hold of that amazing ass, and yeah. He was perfectly happy to stay here, frotting against the door and making out until they both came in their pants like a couple of horny teenagers. 

He moaned into Jensen’s mouth and the kiss turned sloppy as Jensen started to grind against Misha’s groin with more fervor, and he wondered if maybe his partner had the same idea - that getting off here against the door would be absolutely fine by all parties involved. But then Jensen pulled back with a twinkle in his eye and breathed, “Easy there, Tiger,” and moved his lips lower, biting and licking up Misha’s neck. “Finally got you alone, not gonna rush this.”

“Oh really? You seem pretty eager yourself,” Misha challenged, and in response, Jensen nipped at his earlobe and  _ oh _ , dear Lord, this was a lot of mixed messages for his dick. This was fun, when they bantered like this - they didn’t often battle for dominance. Misha usually topped - though Jensen would sometimes make a stronger play for Misha to suck him off first - but he had confided that he genuinely enjoyed bottoming for Misha, and Misha’s preference was to top, and it was usually easier not to fight the natural order.

Today, though, Jensen seemed to have an end-goal outside their norm, because his hands were busy at Misha’s middle, opening the button on his cargo shorts and lowering the zipper before getting to his knees.

He had his lips wrapped around the head of Misha’s cock before there was time for a protest, and Misha settled for a hissed out, “ _ Jesus, Jensen _ ,” and tightened fingers in his hair, guiding his movements, and yeah. This was. This was definitely acceptable. Jensen had a talented mouth, and he had a way of doing this  _ thing  _ with his tongue and the back of his throat that -- yes,  _ that right there _ \-- that  _ thing  _ \-- that definitely turned Misha’s legs and brain to Jell-o and set all of the nerve-endings in his groin on fire. He shouted into the presumed emptiness of the Ackles home.

At his shout, Jensen pulled off and got to his feet, apparently satisfied with Misha’s current state of arousal.

He grinned.

Misha arched an eyebrow in challenge.

Jensen kissed him full on the mouth once, deep and slow, before grabbing him by the hand and leading him out the back door, into the sunroom, where he resumed kissing Misha while steering him back toward a window bench off to one corner. Misha knew this bench - he’d helped Jensen build it back in April, at the beginning of their summer break. He knew it was sturdy, built out of solid oak, with a padded lid that lifted for easy pool storage. It would hold him. Misha’s legs hit the side of it and he took the hint and sat, not at all surprised when Jensen followed him down and covered Misha’s body with his own, pressing him back until he was fully reclined.

“Gonna fuck you out here, Mish,” he breathed into Misha’s ear, and between the heat and humidity and Jensen’s closeness, Misha was back to sweat popping on his skin and dripping down his back, but he couldn’t fight Jensen, wouldn’t anyway, because he wanted this, too. There was something about getting naked and hot and sweaty with Jensen that awakened a usually dormant, very primal part of his brain. “Gonna open you up and fuck you real slow, make you pant and sweat and come apart for me.”

“God yes.” It made sense, because Jensen was in his element out here, in the wet-hot heat of a Texas summer, and Misha was helpless by comparison, nearly delirious already from the heat and the feel of  _ Jensen _ .

“You’re looking pretty warm in these clothes, though.” His hands tugged at the hem of Misha’s polo and pulled it up and over to remove it, followed by a pushing-down of his shorts, and then Jensen discarded his own shirt and yes, this was actually pretty great, because now Misha’s sweaty chest was flush against Jensen’s sweaty chest, and they were panting in short puffs into the space between their mouths, and Misha was barely cognizant of Jensen’s actions as he moved down between Misha’s bent knees and resumed that blowjob he’d been giving in the kitchen.

“Fucking… hell, Jensen… your mouth is just…”

“Mmmhmmm,” came the response, and then two green eyes were looking up at him, holding his gaze across the plane of his belly as a digit probed curiously at his entrance.

Misha nodded and folded his hands behind his head. The finger - lubed, somehow, Misha couldn’t say at all where the lube had come from - slid inside and MIsha groaned and arched his back because, fuck, they really didn’t do this enough and that was a hell of a stretch right there.

Jensen’s hand was on his hip then, gentle at first, and then sliding a bit and finding a grip that would surely leave finger-shaped bruises, but when Jensen shot him a questioning look, Misha hissed and nodded and the second finger was there, and Misha willed his body to relax under the prep. 

Jensen’s mouth returned to his dick, a whole different kind of wet heat, and he gasped but kept his wits, because those fingers inside him were starting to feel awfully good, and he was ready, he felt ready… but Jensen was drawing this out. He was teasing.

The mouth was gone from his erection and then there was the distinct feel of a tongue in his naval, and he was hopelessly lost to the feeling of Jensen, wet and hot and everywhere at once. “Love the way you taste, Mish,” he mumbled, and then licked a trail up Misha’s stomach to his chest, and to his right nipple, which he sucked into his mouth as the fingers left Misha’s body.

He chuckled, low and nervous. “Even when I’m gross?”

“You’re never gross.”

“You’re a fucking sap.”

“Hmm. Maybe. Here, turn over.” He said it even as he helped Misha roll over onto his front and up to his hands and knees before folding over his body again from behind and licking his spine from the base, up a few vertebrae before Misha couldn’t help but buck his hips under the ministrations.

“Please, J.”

A kiss landed where the tongue had stopped, and then there was the unmistakable sound of Jensen lubing up his cock, followed by two firm hands on his hips, one foot up beside his body on the bench, and then pressure at his hole, and Misha let out a rush of hot breath into the thick air around him as Jensen pushed slowly inside.

“You’re amazing,” came Jensen’s voice through the haze in Misha’s mind, and the kisses to his spine resumed, peppering his vertebrae slowly and carefully, as though Jensen was picking out the kissable spots deliberately. “Beautiful. Kind. Smart.” A pause and then another kiss, and Jensen took a first experimental thrust. “Sexy.” Misha mewled under the careful attention and the slow, gentle pace Jensen was setting. “So fucking hot, Mish. I love you so much.”

“Jensen I…” He was going to cry. Fuck.

“Shhhh.” Their bodies slid together as though they’d been oiled, and Jensen refused to quicken his pace, but he did fold himself up around Misha like a slick security blanket, and his breath and his words came in short, hot pants against Misha’s ear the next time he spoke. “I love you. I love everything about you.”

“Even my pit stains?” He found himself asking on a breathy laugh.

“Even your pit stains,” came the bemused response, and a gentle roll of his hips and  _ there _ . That was the spot. Misha let out a strangled cry as Jensen picked up the pace and rocked into that spot, the one that made stars explode behind Misha’s eyes. He’d forgotten that was a spot he liked touched from the inside, and here was Jensen, reminding him about it. Reminding him about lots of things, really, because Misha was way past the point where he noticed more than the pleasure resonating through his body, and the gentle timber of Jensen’s voice bubbling praise from his lips, and the slick, easy slide of their bodies. Jensen’s foot up beside him was getting shaky from holding its position, and Misha turned his head and kissed at the muscular calf, just because, because he  _ could _ , because it was close, because he wanted to touch Jensen in some other way, and then Jensen’s hips were stuttering and Misha knew that even at their slow pace, Jensen was reaching the end. 

He breathed a series of  _ I love you’s _ into the meat of Jensen’s calf, and the air was thick enough he felt his own breath condense against his lips. 

And then, just like that, it was over. Jensen gave one last thrust and came, emptying into Misha, while Misha realized almost as an afterthought that he’d come untouched.

Jensen sagged over his back and then pulled out and took Misha by the hand, pulling him into his lap on the bench, kissing him deeply, slowly. “Shhhh…” he hushed, and Misha realized then that he was definitely crying, though he couldn’t say for sure when he’d let the first tear fall. 

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Why?”

“I’m such a…” He stopped. Sighed. Jensen was giving him that look that said  _ don’t ruin the afterglow, asshat _ , and so he wouldn’t. “This is nice,” he said instead. “Thank you.”

“You get used to the heat,” Jensen rumbled, and Misha looked up questioningly. “You asked me earlier how I manage to deal. You get used to it, growing up where it’s always this way.” He considered that a moment. “And air conditioning.”

Misha laughed quietly at the addition and nosed against Jensen’s chest. “We’re kind of gross right now,” he offered frankly.

Jensen hummed in agreement. “I like you this way, though.”

“Sticky?” He wrinkled his nose playfully. No, that wasn’t it, but it was nice to hear Jensen say the words, so he played along.

“No, goofball. Just… relaxed. Content.”

“I’d rather be relaxed and content upstairs in your bed.”

Jensen pressed a kiss to his head and together they stood. “Danneel will kill us if we crawl into bed like this,” he said. “But there’s a perfectly good pool over there, just begging for some sunset skinny dipping. What do you say?” The back of his hand brushed against Misha’s, and they instinctually intertwined their fingers.

Misha turned his head to find Jensen looking right back at him, and he couldn’t resist pulling him into one last slow, searching kiss. “I followed you into this heat. I’ll follow you anywhere, you know.”

Another kiss, deeper and slower than the first. “You keep doing that,” Jensen said, “and we won’t make it to the pool.”

“Mmmm… I can live with that.”

“No you can’t. You were literally dying from the heat.”

“No, but this--”

“No, no, Mish, I’m a gentleman, and it’s my duty to make sure you’re cool and comfortable after a proper fuck, and I’m just--”

“Jensen, don’t--”

Jensen cut him off with a hard smash of lips to lips, shattering the romantic moment and letting something more playful take its place. He tightened his grip on Misha’s hand and pulled him out of the sunroom and onto the pool deck, and before Misha had a chance to react, they were falling into the pool, lips still pressed together, fingers still intertwined. Misha hit the water backward, Jensen falling in ungracefully on top of him.

They came up panting, water droplets clinging to their skin and dripping from their eyelashes, both smiling into a kiss that had stood the test of the fall.

 


End file.
